


the art of the compromise

by washingtononyourside



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, American Politics, Canon Era, Character Death, Developing Friendships, Duelling, Family Dynamics, Fix-It of Sorts, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, Human Disaster Aaron Burr, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, Human Disaster George Washington, LGBTQ Themes, Literary References & Allusions, Madison-centric, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other: See Story Notes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Political Alliances, Political Campaigns, Political Parties, Slow Romance, Wakes & Funerals, Weddings, the devil works hard.. but madison works harder!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 03:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17480579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/washingtononyourside/pseuds/washingtononyourside
Summary: 1789. After losing election to the House of Representatives, James Madison is offered a position in the executive cabinet.





	the art of the compromise

**Author's Note:**

> guess who finally decided to write the story that they've had in their head for over a year? that's right, it's me!
> 
> basically, this is an au where madison becomes secretary of state for washington instead of jefferson. madison is my favorite character in the musical, and i'll forever be upset that he didn't have a larger role in the musical despite the fact that he was friends with alexander hamilton for over a decade, so i decided to plan a long fanfic centered around him to compensate for it. oops.
> 
> like i said, this story is going to be long, so i've split it into different 'parts', i guess you could say? and some parts might have longer chapters than other ones depending on what arc it is. i don't have an update schedule just yet, but when i decide on one, i'll put it in the notes here! :)
> 
> warnings:  
> -this story is set in the canon era of the musical, so i should probably mention that madison, washington, jefferson and co. still own slaves and call them ""servants"" like that somehow makes it any better, so uh.. yeah. they're all trash! take what you will from that.  
> -the idea of abolitionism will be discussed at length in some parts of the story, but since almost all of the characters in the story own slaves and all of them are complicit in the continuation of the slave trade, don't expect them to be enlightened about it. i don't think i can make it any clearer than that, so tldr; if the word "servant" pops up in the context of a person, they're a slave, no one in the musical was an actual, true abolitionist, and i hate all of the founding fathers because they owned my ancestors and were unapologetic about it. cheers!  
> -there are also lgbt+ themes and characters in this work, so homophobia and transphobia will be shown and extensively discussed. i'll put warnings in every chapter that deals with it beforehand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: since there are a lot of characters that werent in the musical in this story, plus the fact that i use different faceclaims than the obc for most of the characters that were there, faceclaims will be listed in beginning notes of each chapter :)
> 
> faceclaims:  
> madison - [okieriete onaodowan](https://2j29m13d0esqmrduc3h1lx97-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/James-Madison_Okieriete-Onaodowan.jpg)  
> washington- [jonathan kirkland](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/383099809168490516/509951076363927552/image.png)  
> hamilton - [michael luwoye](https://newimages.bwwstatic.com/upload12/1763733/files/tn-500_michaelluwoye-hamiltonnationaltour\(c\)joanmarcus.jpg)  
> martha w. - [alfre woodard](https://s3.amazonaws.com/bgn2018media/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/29194524/Alfre-Woodard.jpg)

**_February 22nd, 1789_ **

 

James Madison has always prided himself on taking his losses with stride, but the results of the House of Representatives election are enough to make him lose all of his composure. After running the longest campaign of his life, filled with sleepless nights and days where he did nothing but travel through the district in the snow, he lost. And he didn’t just lose– no, he would have been able to deal with it, had he not lost to _James fucking Monroe._ The results of the election are embarrassing; he lost 1,308 to 972! It’s the widest margin that he’s ever lost an election by, even if it is only by fifteen percent.

 The worst part of it is that Monroe had no interest in being a Congressman until that rat Patrick Henry put the idea in his head to run against him. James is a lot of things, but he isn’t stupid. He knows that Henry and his lackeys set him up as revenge for embarrassing him at the convention where they decided whether or not the Constitution would be ratified, and he knows that Henry chose Monroe to run against him specifically to fuck with him. He might have been fine with it otherwise, but putting his home county in a district with people that also opposed the Constitution was a low blow, even for Patrick Henry. So much for 1789 being a good year. 

It isn’t all bad, he supposes. At least Richie got elected to the House; he would need to write a letter to him soon, letting him know that he still has his support. And, Washington is undoubtedly going to be the new president, so hopefully Washington can find him a position somewhere in the executive government– him and Hamilton have talked about it already, but he hasn’t gone over the plan with Washington yet. Thankfully, Washington had invited him to Mount Vernon so that they would be able to talk everything over. He just hopes that he isn’t intruding on him too much, since it is his birthday.

Ever since Virginia ratified the Constitution, life has been changing rapidly for him. For the fifth time in the decade, he’s moving away from his beloved Montpelier, and this time, it would be a long time before he returned. He isn’t too upset about it; New York is a fine state– not as fine as Virginia, but still nice. He thinks that he’ll be happy there. Aside from that, the first session of the new Congress starts soon. In less than two weeks, to be precise. It feels stupid to him, leaving Virginia for New York when he doesn’t have a seat in either chambers of Congress, but he still wants to be in the center of national politics. Why wouldn’t he? He practically built the new government from scratch, and he’s more than eager to see how the government under the new Constitution will work out.

He has other things to look forward to, too. Recently, he’s undertaken the task of becoming the guardian of a few of his nieces and nephews. While he was in New York working on _The Federalist_ with Hamilton, his brother Ambrose wrote to him most desperately, explaining that his plantation Woodley had fallen on hard times due to the decline of the tobacco market in recent years, and because of it, he was not gaining enough income from planting, which meant that he could not afford to continue the education of his daughter, Nelly. James could understand that, of course– Montpelier had been falling on hard times as well, as the tides of foreign relations and trade began to shift more and more, causing America’s tobacco market to fail in recent years. As countries look elsewhere for their tobacco, the southern plantation owners and farmers suffer for it. It was only natural that Ambrose would have been struggling with his plantation; James had expected as much, but he had not expected for Ambrose to suggest that _he_ fund Nelly’s education.

It was ridiculous. He proposed that James take her in as his ward, allowing her to continue her education whilst traveling away from Virginia life and having the new experiences that they had not been able to have themselves. And, as Ambrose’s wife had not shown any signs of pregnancy since her birth, Nelly would be the one to inherit Woodley someday, and he wanted her to have an education befitting her exalted position as his heir. 

When he first read his brother’s letter, he had scoffed at his request. While it was understandable to him that Ambrose would want Nelly to be prepared for her future as plantation mistress as early as possible, especially given that he was just as prone to sickness as himself and their Mama, the thought of him raising a child was a laughable one, at best. Not only does he have no experience with raising children, but he has very little experience with running a plantation. Ambrose has always been more interested in taking charge of Montpelier than James was, and it isn’t even his inheritance! But, despite his misgivings over the proposal, he eventually relented and agreed to take in the girl.

It’s been a difficult task, to say the least, but it has paid off marvelously. Nelly is a sweet girl. She’s eight, having just turned so in December, and her lively demeanor is a perfect contrast to his quiet manner of going about things. She loves reading as much as he does, too, and they both share passions for music and birds. Best of all, she loves to travel; she’s only been to New York with him once – in November, when he visited Hamilton, – but after their visit, she told him that she had loved every second of it and couldn’t wait to go back. Thus, when she found out about their impending move to New York, she had practically leapt for joy at the prospect and took it upon herself to learn as much about New York as possible before they left. It filled him with pride, seeing his little niece as excited for their new environment as he is. He can tell that by the time she comes back from Virginia when she’s a woman grown, she’ll be a very changed person, able to use the knowledge and experiences that she underwent in her youth to her benefit and that of those around her.

He’s also made strides to ensure that Nelly would not grow up as sheltered as he had. While it’s true that when they’re in New York, Nelly will share the company of his friends’ children, he still doesn’t want his niece to be so disconnected from family. So, because Nelly doesn’t have any siblings of her own, he had made an arrangement with his brother Francis that would allow him to become guardian of his oldest children, so that Nelly would have companions to be raised alongside her instead of being educated alone. They had grown up in a large family, after all, and they had never known the feeling of being alone, so why should the same not be said of their children?

But dealing with Francis’s kids isn’t as easy as dealing with Nelly. While Nelly is, for the most part, a sweet and agreeable girl, Francis’s children are not. The oldest of Francis’s bunch, William, is only eleven years old and he’s already an utter pain in James’s eyes. He had not seen much of the boy during the first few years of his life, as he had been busy participating in Virginia’s politics and the national Congress, but James does remember that when they met before, William was a keen and curious lad that loved to be called Billy. But all of that is over, now– according to Francis, he had recently decided that since he was eleven, it was time that he began acting like a ‘proper gentleman’ and forbade his siblings from calling him anything but William. It’s frustrating, dealing with him, since he fervently believes that he’s on the cusp of adulthood and should be treated as such, preferring to act as if he is an independent rather than a boy who still sobs when it storms at night. William hates him, or least acts like he does. He’s even compared him, his guardian, to the king of England and himself to the former colonies! He can’t help but think of how much the boy reminds him of himself when he was younger, before his Mama and his tutors managed to talk sense into him. 

Then there’s the younger James. More commonly referred to amongst the family as Jimmie, he’s a sweet boy of nine that is, in his opinion, a near-polar opposite of himself. A name seems to be the one thing that the two had in common with each other; while James is quiet and studious, Jimmie is loud, adventurous, and prefers to spend time outdoors. Before James arrived at Prospect Hills to formally assume guardianship of his brother’s children, Francis had written to him detailing everything that his soon-to-be charges liked and disliked so that he would be able to bond with the children easier. Jimmie’s section was the shortest, by far. _Jimmie loves adventure and desires nothing more than to someday be a sailor or a soldier,_ It had said. _Do not try and make a scholar out of him, James. You’ll fail._

While he had been somewhat disappointed when he first discovered that his namesake wasn’t as inclined to scholarly pursuits as he was, there does happen to be a bright side to Jimmie’s adventure streak. Out of all of Francis’s children, Jimmie had seemed the most excited about the prospect of uprooting themselves from Virginia and making a life in New York when he learned about it. As a child, James had practically clung to his Mama’s skirts. He followed her around everywhere, was not weaned from her until he was nearly two, and stayed in the nursery with his younger siblings until he was ten and his father convinced him to leave. When he was eleven and his parents had informed him that he was going to attend a boarding school near Richmond, he had been terrified. He can’t even begin to fathom the idea of his younger self having the amount of courage and free spirit that Jimmie had, especially at such a young age.

Francis’s daughter is much easier to deal with, at least. Elizabeth, nicknamed Betsey by her siblings, is like him, studious and quiet and clever, and her keenness for learning shows promise. Her passion for the Latin and Greek languages is especially encouraging, and her wit outmatches that of her brothers by far; it reminds him of himself when he was younger. She’s only a couple of months older than Nelly, too, which, in addition to saving him money on gifts, provides both girls with a companion that have similar interests as they do, and the added perks of being both related and close in age to one another. Thinking about it makes him sure that when the two of them were older, they’ll have a special bond as each other’s closest companion and friend, and they’ll be able to look back on their time in his care with nostalgia and admiration.

The only downside to agreeing to take charge of Betsey and give her schooling along with her brothers is that her younger sisters worshipped her, and the thought of their older sister being taken away to live with an uncle that they barely knew had generated animosity towards him. Honestly, he can’t blame them for it. Within their family, he had been the oldest child, so he knows what it was like to be worshipped by his younger and more impressionable siblings, but during his short stay at Prospect Hills, it became clear to him that the Madison girls were as tight-knit as they possibly can be. If he had been that close to his siblings when they were young, he would be upset if one of his siblings was moved to a different household, too. Hopefully, Betsey will have the opportunity to visit her sisters from time to time, and perhaps Francis can even bring his family to New York for a visit.

As the children’s guardian, he has also been put in charge of their religious education and spiritual life, something that he has been sorely lacking in for himself. Once he’s properly settled in with the children, he’ll seek out Hamilton’s wife and ask her which of the local churches would be best for him to attend with his family. Eliza is a very spiritual woman, and she undoubtedly knows about all of the finest churches in the city. He does not know much about New York’s churches– when he had lived there previously, he was much too busy with the Congress of the Confederation and The Federalist to attend services– but he is sure that at the very least, they’ll be nothing like Virginia’s churches. As much as he loves the Old Dominion, Virginia services are too much like the Anglican services that he was required to attend in his youth, and he resents it with a fierce passion. Despite independence from Britain and the separation of the church and the state, it seems that all of Virginia would rather cling to the old religious ways than embrace the newer ideals brought in through the Age of Enlightenment.

The world is changing around them in ways that he would not have thought possible a decade ago, or even two years ago. America is an independent country, free from the tyranny of Great Britain, France is finally on the verge of its own revolution, he had helped create the country’s new Constitution and government, and in just a matter of weeks, his friend is going to be sworn in as the first President of the United States. It’s a shame that Thomas is still in France– he knows that he would love to see all of the changes to the nation.

“We’re here, Uncle James,” Nelly announces, turning her head back from the carriage window with a grin. Her excitement is plain on her face; she’s never been to Mount Vernon with him, as she had taken ill around both of the times he had been there since he became her guardian, but he isn’t too worried about that. James knows that her and the other children would have surely heard tales about Washington and how he commanded the army during the Revolution from their parents, so he imagines that they’re all as eager as Nelly is at the prospect of meeting the former General and future President. It’s a strange feeling, thinking about how his nieces and nephews had been born so close to the war’s end that they can remember no other nation than the United States of America, but in all truth, he’s glad that they’ll never have to grow up under the thumb of a tyrant as the adults of the nation had to. Independence was secured for the next generation, and that’s all that matters to him. 

As the carriage comes to a complete halt, James eyes the other children in the carriage; Betsey has been tearing into the French translation of _Letters from an American Farmer_ that he had gifted to her two weeks ago ever since they settled into the carriage, her bright eyes beaming with delight as she scans the pages. Jimmie is playing with the young Greyhound pup that he had bought for the general as a birthday gift, rubbing the dog’s paws onto the soft side of the carriage with a quiet enthusiasm that he can't help but smile at. William is reading his copy of _Robinson Crusoe_ and looks rather tired with the book, but then again, he looks tired with everything. He rolls his eyes at William’s bored expression. At least he’ll grow out of it soon.

“We’re here,” He repeats, causing the other three children to look up from what they had been doing with relieved expressions on their faces. He knocks on the top of the carriage with his knuckle and begins to hum. It helps him to think, and keeps him distracted from the coldness of the carriage; he’s sure that the children are annoyed with it by now, since he’s been doing it since they left Fredericksburg. He looks out at the view as one of his servants opens the door next to him and Nelly. “Oh God.”

The Mount Vernon stables are still just as beautiful as he remembers them to be, but the weather is still just as terrible as it was when they left Fredericksburg! He had assumed that after being in the carriage for hours on end, the weather would have lightened up, but instead it had gotten even worse. “Well, there go our plans to leave tomorrow,” He mumbles, clearly agitated, before carefully stepping out into the snow and turning back around to face the children. He helps each of the children out of the carriage, moving slowly so that they wouldn’t slip and fall into the ice and the snow, and shudders at the cold. It goes successfully, but it did take some convincing to make Jimmie leave the carriage; he was steadfast in his belief that General Washington’s new puppy would freeze to death, and the only thing that soothed him was when James took off his own cloak and wrapped it around the pup.

“Now, I expect all of you to be on your best behavior for General and Lady Washington.” He says, his boots trudging in the snow as they walked from the stable towards the main house. He wishes that he had worn his better boots, as snow keeps dripping into the ones that he’s wearing and the removal of his cloak has left him freezing. He quickly looks back towards the children, to make sure that they’re still following him, before he turns his head back forward and starts walking at a faster pace. “You are not to speak to them unless they address you first, and if they ask you any questions, be quick to answer.” 

“What makes General Washington so special?” Jimmie huffs, clutching the puppy-filled cloak close to his chest and kicking the snow ahead of him. “Are we supposed to like him just ‘cause he helped us get independence?”

God, he has so much of Francis in him. James pauses momentarily before letting out a long, irritated sigh. “No. I don’t care whether you like him or not. But you will be on your best behavior, because in just a matter of weeks, General Washington will be the country’s first President.”

At first, Jimmie nods in agreement with him, but before long he has a puzzled look on his face. “Uncle James, what’s a President?”

“Do you not pay attention to the papers?” William asks crossly, crossing his arms as best as he can with the book in his hands.  “In the new Constitution, it says that the leader of the country is going to be called the President, because a President is more democratic than a King, or an Emperor, or a _Sultan_ ,” He puts extra stress on the last word, as he had just recently learned it through one of his history books. “And because it’s democratic, there are going to be elections to decide who the President is going to be. Since General Washington was the leader of the army in the Revolution, everyone will want him to be the President, because everyone likes him and thinks he’s a good leader.”

Jimmie stares ahead of them for a moment, then shakes his head. “I don’t think General Washington should be the President. I think that Uncle James should be the President, ‘cause he invented the Constitution and is the smartest person that I know. Right, Uncle James?”

James lets out a soft laugh and shrugs. “No. Both of those things might be true, but General Washington is much more qualified for the job than I am.”

“Well, _I_ don’t think so.” Betsey chimes in, trudging ahead through the snow so that she could walk alongside him. “You have much more political experience than he does, and you know the new Constitution and the new government better than any other man. Not to mention, you’re younger than he is. It’s not fair that General Washington is going to be the President just because he led the military, because a military command and a political office are two completely different things. For all we know, he could be the most unqualified man for the job.”

“We are not going to talk about this right now,” James cuts in sternly. Betsey acts so much like him, it hurts. “I would be more than happy to explain the complicated relationship that General Washington has with political offices to you, but now is not the time. You just need to behave yourselves.”

“Can I present the general with his puppy, Uncle James?” Nelly asks, walking on James’s other side and clutching his hand tightly.

“Well, I think that we should let Jimmie present the general with his puppy,” He squeezes Nelly’s hand and turns his attention to Jimmie, who is so preoccupied with coddling the pup that he’s nearly tripped over his own feet twice now. Nelly lets out a soft giggle, clearly amused by her cousin’s antics, and pulls James’s hand along to make him walk faster.

“So, how long are we going to be here?” William calls out from behind them, prompting Nelly to turn her head and stick out her tongue.

“As long as General Washington wants us to, _duh,_ ” The matter-of-fact tone in Nelly’s voice causes James to let out a snort, and he looks back to see an affronted William. 

“A few days at the most,” He explains, then turns his head back around. “The weather has prevented our departure, unfortunately; but we’ll still make it to New York in time, I swear.” A lie, of course. He can see the western front of the house up ahead, although it is hard to recognize it– the neat green in the center that usually greets him when he arrives there has been replaced with a thick bed of snow and ice, and the pathways that lead to the house are all slippery and steeped in heavy snow. 

“Oh, wow!” Nelly exclaims in delight upon their reaching the western front of the house, her jaw dropping once she sees the full view of the house. “Mount Vernon is so much bigger than Woodley, and Montpelier!”

“And Prospect Hills,” Betsey adds, equally in awe at the house. Jesus Christ, Francis and Ambrose need to take their children out more.

“The general has very nice taste,” James notes, letting Nelly’s hand drop down to her side so that he can fasten his pace. “Lord in Heaven, it’s so cold,” He mumbles, taking a deep breath and rubbing his hands on his arms. When he looks ahead of them and sees Washington in the distance, bundled into his winter coats and leaning against one of his house’s doorways, he feels like weeping. If only he hadn’t given his cloak to a bloody _dog._  

The sight of Washington plodding through the snow to reach them is enough to make him smile, but that smile quickly wears away once he sees the look of concern on the other man’s face. Oh, this won’t end well. “George,” He says briskly, looking up at him with uncertainty. “You’ve gotten taller.” And older.

Washington’s concerned look fades into a smile. “No, I doubt that– but perhaps you’ve gotten shorter.” Nelly giggles from behind them, only to be shushed by William. Washington looks over his shoulder, which prompts him to turn around, too. “Are those your nieces and nephews?”

“No, George, those are just random children that I found in the street- what do you think?” He questions, playfully rolling his eyes as Washington gasps cheerfully. 

“You shouldn’t talk to General Washington like that, Uncle James!” Nelly protests, biting her lip and frowning. He hears William mumbling something about how he said that they need to be on their best behavior and sighs. 

“I was making jest, Nelly,” He says evenly, lightly slapping Washington on the back. “We always talk to each other like this.”

That’s true, at least. While he was still expected to treat Washington with the respect due to him as the country’s military leader in public, they had dropped the formalities of their friendship in private years ago– if they even existed to begin with. Nowadays, their conversations are based almost entirely in trading snarky or witty remarks about one another and discussing the politics of the nation, and he enjoys the balance of it. One minute, they jest about the trivial matters in their lives, the other they observe how the new nation is faring in regards to its internal affairs. It’s a nice system that they’ve worked out together, and with Hamilton, they’ve formed what Hamilton likes to call ‘an unstoppable triad’; his caution and wit work well with Hamilton’s sharpness and Washington’s patronage.

Nelly nods understandingly and grins. Washington turns back to him. “Where is your cloak?” He asks, concern seeping through his voice. James rolls his eyes and points back to Jimmie, who cautiously walks forward and holds out the bundle to Washington.

“Uncle James bought you a dog for your birthday, Your Excellency. I named him Caesar,” Jimmie explains, watching as Washington removes the puppy from the cloak and holds it close. The children, save William, all do a collective _awww_ when Caesar licks his cheek, and even he smiles a bit at the sight. Perhaps, once he and the children have settled into their house in New York, he can get his own dog for the children, so that they might have a little companion of their own to play with. 

“Thank you,” Washington mouths to James, then hands the cloak back to him. He quickly puts the cloak back around himself and smooths it out. “We should get you inside, you look like you’re freezing. Martha is getting the children right now– they’ll meet us in the parlor,” He confirms, then turns around and starts to walk back to the large house, his cape flowing behind him as the wind gushes.

“You have no idea,” James breathes out, reaching to take Nelly’s hand and leading the children into the safe walls of Mount Vernon. The main room, the one that Washington calls his New Room, looks the same as it did when he was there two months ago, save the new coating of paint. The room has been renovated at least twice since their friendship began, but he can’t deny that it didn’t pay off excellently for Washington. It’s a nice, spacious room, and would surely impress any guests that arrived there. It makes him feel somewhat jealous; Montpelier was nowhere near as grand.

Washington hands Caesar off to one of his servants and takes the hand of his wife, who he ushers up to James with a wide grin on his face. Oh _no._

“Hi, Martha,” He greets, almost freezing up as the older woman pulls him into a hug. He loves Martha, he really does, but her hugs are always so _tight_. He’s surprised that she hasn’t suffocated him yet.

“A pleasure, Mr. Madison, as always.” Martha says, her face beaming. James smiles as he practically pries himself out of the hug.

He crouches down to eye-level with Washington and Martha’s grandchildren. He doesn’t know them as well, since he’s usually at Mount Vernon on political business or something similar, but from what he can tell, they’re sweet kids. “How have you two been?” He asks, nodding and chuckling when the two say _good_ in unison. “I have some friends for you two,” He turns back to his nieces and nephews. “Introduce yourselves– I hope you don’t mind watching the children, Martha. George and I have official business to take care of.”

“On my birthday?” Washington says, frowning.  “Can it not wait until tomorrow?”

“The trials and tribulations of government stop for no man,” James counters. “Not even on your birthday.”

“But-”

“No buts. If I have to work on my birthday, then so do you.” James lets go of Nelly’s hand and motions for Washington to lead him out of the room, gladly following the man as he leads him into his study.

Washington practically flops into the chair in front of his writing desk. “You’re going to be the death of me, James,” He grumbles crossly, throwing his hands up to his head and sighing.

James rolls his eyes. “You knew what I was coming here for– it isn’t _my_ fault that you invited me here on your birthday.” He huffs, taking the other chair and sitting down in it. “Besides, aren’t _you_ the one that asked me to look over your inaugural address, and told me that we could discuss it when I arrived?”

Washington pauses. He opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it again. “Exactly,” James says triumphantly, scooting himself closer to the writing desk. “Now, I’ve looked over your entire speech.” 

“All of it?” Washington presses on. It reminds him of how the children get when they ask him questions.

“Yes. All _seventy-four_ pages.” He clenches his teeth in a forced smile. And Washington says that James will be _his_ death. “Do you want me to be honest?” When Washington nods, he sighs and shrugs. “I think you should start over.”

Washington nods again. He must be relieved that he won’t have to read such a long speech anymore. “I thought you might say so,” He confesses, his right leg pushing the chair next to him back and forth. James grits his teeth. Washington has the _worst_ bad habits.

“I’ll help you write a new one,” James smiles again. “We have plenty of time before all of the states finish their elections– it isn’t like you're going to be sworn in tomorrow.” He adds hastily once he sees the look of despair on Washington’s face.

And there it is: the dreaded sigh. James raises an eyebrow in suspense. What on Earth could he possibly be upset over? “I have some.. qualms about accepting the presidency,” Washington admits, his voice low and his eyes shot to the ground.

He feels like Washington just punched him in the stomach. How could he say that? “How could you say that?” He questions, his voice sounding more irritated than he intended it to sound. “You.. can't just.. what?” James can't even find the right words to say. 

If Washington were not among his closest friends, James would strangle him until he turned blue. The entire country is expecting Washington to take the reins of government because he is the only person that they've deemed fit for the job. All of the delegates that attended the Philadelphia convention expected that he would be the first President when they created the office, and everyone at the ratifying conventions throughout the nation are expecting him to serve as well; he _knows_ that Washington knows this, so why is he trying to pretend otherwise?

“When I first retired from public office, I promised that I would retire from public life and never hold such a high degree of office again– I don’t want to be seen as a hypocrite.” Washington explains, his eyes widening in shock as James rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“Surely, you had no problem assuming a high office when you became president of the Philadelphia convention.”

Washington blinks. James does. “My mother is getting older,” He counters. “My sister tells me that she's been afflicted with cancer and doesn't have very long to live.”

James snorts. “George, how old is your mother?”

“Eighty,” Washington replies, blushing in embarrassment as James raises an eyebrow at him again, staring at him as if he were judging every fiber of his being. “I-”

“Exactly. Your mother is old, but she has lived a full life,” He assures him, patting him on the leg comfortingly. “If God calls her to Him, then there's nothing that you can do about it except remember the good times that you shared with her. And, if you feel so strongly about your mother, see her before you have to leave and say your goodbyes.”

Silence hangs in the air for a few moments before Washington continues. “I won’t be able to tend to my lands in the West.”

“No one is saying that you have to stay in New York for your entire presidency,” James points out. “You will be able to take vacations.”

“I'm getting older, I may not be as fit for the job now.”

Oh _god_. “You’re fifty-seven years old, not seventy-seven,” James argues jokingly, trying to contain a laugh. “And you're still as young as you were when we met.”

“Finding men capable of operating in the government will be a difficult task.” 

James rolls his eyes. “Me and Hamilton can help you with that.”

“But-”

“George!”

He did not mean to shout as loud as he did, but he has to admit– the look of terror on Washington’s face as he coils back is satisfying. It's the first time that he's ever truly raised his voice at him, or at anyone, really. He’s never felt a need to yell at someone, but now that he’s done it, he feels that he needs to start doing it more. It feels _amazing_.

James sighs and composes himself, coughing awkwardly. “George, you are my closest friend,” He admits. It is true, at least for the moment; he's still slightly angry with Thomas for going behind his back and insulting the Constitution. “We’ve been through a lot together over these past eight years, and not once have I ever, _ever_ doubted your guidance. Do you doubt mine?”

He feels bad about pushing Washington into a corner like this, but it’s for the best. Washington can be a lot sometimes, anyways– he likes him and champions him above most others, but the man can't make a solid decision and stick to it to save his life. One minute he blows hot and another minute he blows cold, like a gust of wind in April. James had not known that he would come to the Philadelphia convention until he arrived there! And while he can't blame the man for wanting to retire and spend the rest of his days as a farmer, he knows better: if Washington doesn't accept the presidency, then America _will_ fail.

Washington shakes his head. “No.” He says it so quietly that at first, James doesn’t realize that he had said anything. Now he feels _really_ bad about shouting at him.

“Well, listen to my guidance: accept the presidency. A lot of our adversaries have been elected to Congress, and there are no doubts in my mind that they have some plan to get rid of the Constitution,” James declares, his words practically drowning in the desperation seeping through his voice. “Once America is stable, you can retire, just like you wanted– that way, you won't be seen as a hypocrite." 

Washington stares at him. His eyes are unreadable and every line and crinkle on his face is visible as he frowns. He looks as if he is trying to pressure him into giving up. It isn't intimidating to him, not in the very least, but James still feels like he has to do something so he bites his lip. “Believe me when I say that if you don't accept, everything that we've worked so hard for will crash and burn right before your eyes. Do you really want that to happen?” He presses, crossing his arms and staring back at Washington in the same manner that he's staring at him. 

“James..”

“Just months ago, you told me to take a leap of faith and run for Congress,” James interrupts, thinking about the hardships that he had endured in his recent runs for Congress. His eyes water over some as he thinks about how humiliating his defeats were, since he lost in _both_ chambers of the Congress that _he_ basically created, but he blinks back any tears and looks at Washington determinedly. “I may not have won my races for Congress, but I know that if you do this, then we can manage to keep America steady. Take a leap of faith, George.”

It takes a few minutes, but Washington’s eyes soften and his face becomes riddled with understanding; he's won. “You're right,” He concedes finally.

“I know,” James states simply. “I’m always right.”

He smiles. Washington does, too, then clears his throat. “I have been thinking about something– since you won't be occupied with Congress, you will need a new job.” He notes. “And I do believe that Secretary Jay plans on retiring from his position soon..” 

“No,” James says, astonished at what he was implying to him. “You don't mean-”

“If you're willing to accept it,” Washington amends.

James bites his lip again; it's his worst habit, but it helps him to think. As the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, John Jay holds one of the highest positions in the country. Since it is a position created by the Articles of Confederation, the Constitution will eliminate it soon, but he knows that Congress intends to bring the position back as one of the leaders of the executive department. It will, without a doubt, become one of the most powerful of the executive officers, if not the most powerful aside from the President, and Washington trusts _him_ with it?

“The Senate will have to confirm me, right?” He asks nervously. He doesn't have a good relationship with most of the Senators that he know have been elected already– William Johnson is nice enough, but if he was given the opportunity to do so, he would strangle the _shit_ out of William Paterson and Richard Henry Lee.

Washington nods. “They won't reject your confirmation if I nominate you.” He says in his matter-of-fact voice. James hates it with every fiber of his being, because he knows that Washington is usually right when he brings it out.

James shrugs. “I suppose you're right.” He sighs. “I’ll think about it, alright?”

When he nods again, he smiles and nudges Washington with his elbow. “Now, about that speech of yours..”

 

* * *

 **_March 16th,_** ** _1789_**  

 

They’ve only been in New York for two days and so much has happened already that James can’t keep up, but the realization that it’s his birthday hits harder than everything else that’s happened since they arrived in the city.

 He’s thirty-eight years old now– almost forty. He feels so _old._  

James knows that truthfully, he should be grateful that he’s lived as long as he has due to the uncertainty of his health, but he finds it hard to be grateful that he’s still alive when he has to put up with other people’s shit every single day. Congress has been in session for nearly two weeks now, and even though he’s only been in New York for two days, he’s already accomplished more than they have in the two weeks since they’ve been in session. He isn’t surprised, however– no matter what, Congress is _always_ slow, but between the Continental Congress, the Congress of the Confederation, and this new Congress, the new Congress is setting a new record for not being able to get things done.

At least the house is coming together nicely. On some of his last visits to New York, he had slowly started to work on setting everything in the house up in preparation for their arrival, and now that they’re actually in the house it’s paid off. It isn’t anywhere near as grand as the plantations in Virginia are, but he thinks that in time, he’ll be able to see it as a home. The children like it well enough, too, even if it is a bit small for their tastes. They’ll have to get used to it– if he had to get used to sleeping at Princeton, then they can get used to sharing two rooms.

He leans back against into his chair and sighs contently. It’s such a comfortable chair, and it really brings the entire parlor room together. The children are out of the house– he’s sent them off to run his errands for him, mainly because of Jimmie’s desire to leave the house and do something mixed with Nelly’s insistence that she knows New York well enough to lead them around, as well as his own desire to have a break from them; it’s nice to have peace and quiet for once. The servants are either unpacking the rest of their belongings or preparing the dinner, which he hopes won’t take much longer. He’s hungry.

Richard Bland Lee– James calls him Richie– sits to the right of his chair, describing all of the events that have been transpiring in Congress since their meetings began two weeks ago. As a member of the House of Representatives, Richie serves as James’s inside man for the Congress sessions, presenting his ideas and furthering his interests whenever he has the floor. He is, perhaps, the most trustworthy man that James knows right now; he loves Thomas, Washington, and Hamilton to death, but Richie is devoted to him in a way that the rest of them could only dream of. He has his back.

He sighs as Richie explains more of what Congress has been meeting about. It’s times like this where he misses his Mama. She’s always been the most decisive and tactical person that he knows. James never really gets sentimental, but he can’t help it right now; it’s his birthday and he’s frustrated and he misses his Mama. He grunts and rubs his temple. He bets that if _she_ was in Congress, she would probably get things done faster than how they’re doing now. 

“How are the Virginia representatives fairing?” James asks, tapping on the armrest of his chair. He is worried about what Virginia’s role in the House is, since the majority of Virginia’s representatives are not only against the Constitution, but they’re some of the most incompetent people that he knows.

“Well, Monroe is insufferable, as always,” Richie practically spits out, a look of disgust on his face as he says the other man’s name. “Can you believe that he calls _you_ corrupt and a monarchist?” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Does he?” He asks curiously, somewhat amused at Monroe’s words. Of course Monroe would say something like that, but he’s surprised that he doesn’t have the balls to say it to his face. Then again, Monroe has always been a cowardly ass when it comes to dealing with him. So much for being a war hero; if the men that worked with Monroe saw how he acted then they were alone, they would call him a bitch.

Richie nods and grins. “Thankfully, the other Virginia representatives aren’t very receptive towards him– it seems that not everyone was fond of the dirty tactics that Henry and his followers used to keep you out of Congress,” He explains, laughing as he talks. “Even those who aren’t on our side disagree with Henry and Monroe’s deceitfulness, including the representatives from _other_ states.”

James smiles. “Good. And how long will it be until the votes for president and vice president will be counted?”

“Well, the presidential candidate is a certainty,” Richie takes a sip from his tea and then sets it back down. “The vice presidential candidate is less certain. Some people prefer John Adams, and others prefer John Jay. I’ve even heard talk of John Hancock and Governor Clinton as potential candidates.”

He shudders at the thought of Governor Clinton as the nation’s vice president. The man is so dreadful and power-hungry that the executive office might truly become a monarchy if he had his way, given by how he runs New York and tries to suppress federalism in the government. God help them all if Clinton gets elected vice president– James knows that if it came down to that, Hamilton would turn against the office faster than it takes to put out a candle, despite his own political beliefs. He may like federalism, but he hates Governor Clinton even more, _especially_ since the disaster at the Philadelphia convention. It’s been almost two years since the convention began and ended, but James is sure that Hamilton still hasn’t gotten over the embarrassment of what happened to him at the convention. Not that he can blame him: Governor Clinton is an ass.

John Hancock doesn’t seem to have much influence anymore outside of Massachusetts, and his health has been failing for several months now, so he supposes that it would be for the best if Adams or Jay became the vice president; he doesn’t really like either of them too much, but it has a lot of benefits. Not only does it provide a regional balance between the North and the South, but it lets the pro-federalism faction control Congress and the executive branch. Besides, Jay is easy enough to compromise with. Adams, on the other hand, is one of the most stubborn men he’s ever met in his life. Maybe it’s a northerner thing, because Hamilton is the exact same way.

“I see,” James sighs and takes a sip of his own tea, his face twisting in disgust at the taste. Now he remembers why he doesn’t drink tea. “I trust that they’ll count the electoral votes soon.” He sets his cup back on the small table and snorts as he thinks about something that he’s just now realizing. “Do you want to know something?” He asks, turning to Richie as he sits back in the chair. 

He nods eagerly. James smiles at the sight; he’s so young and impressionable, like a slightly less annoying version of himself from ten years ago. “I thought that the problem with the government all had to do the Articles of Confederation, but it turns out that it’s something else: the men that we trust with the government.” He says, frowning as he thinks about the new Congress. It’s a notable improvement over both the Continental Congress and the Confederation Congress, but it still isn’t good enough– the men are just as indecisive and unmotivated now than they were back in the old Congresses, if not more so.

Richie sighs. “If only we could get rid of those mean creatures like Monroe and Henry.” 

James shrugs. “There’s not much that I can do, for now,” He adds, chuckling as Richie’s face lights up once he adds the latter half of his sentence. Richie’s zeal is something that he admires, but sometimes, it can be almost comical to see how fast the man reacts to his optimistic words. It’s such a rarity when he’s actually optimistic, so he can see why Richie jumps to the occasion.

“Well, when you’re back in the government, you’ll set things right,” Richie declares, his eyes glowing with a passion unlike anything James has ever seen before. “You always have a way of fixing things.”

That is true. He does have a way with fixing things, but finding solutions to the problems already facing the new government is going to be a difficult task; he has no seat in Congress, and he isn’t sure that he wants to accept Washington’s job offer yet, so he’s in stasis. Richie is a help, but his point-of-view is limited, as he’s only a member of the House. If he were apart of the Senate, too, then it would be better for him, but alas, he isn’t, and there’s no members of the Senate that James both likes and can have access to on a regular basis. Unless..

“Richie,” James speaks up. “Senator Lee– you’re related to him, correct?”

Richie nods. “He’s a cousin of my father,” He explains slowly, as if confused by James’s question.

James smiles. Perfect. “I need you to question him about the activities going on in the Senate when the two chambers don’t have joint meetings,” He rubs Richie’s arm enthusiastically. “You two may not be on the same side, but I have no doubts that he’ll feel obliged to out of family loyalty. We both know how the Lees are when it comes to staying loyal to their family.”

“I’ll find out everything that I can, Mr. Madison,” Richie vows, then leans forward and grabs his cup of tea.

“In the meantime, I think I’m going to start drafting a bill of rights.” He rolls his eyes as Richie practically chokes on the tea. He’s so dramatic; it isn’t like James said that he was going to kill somebody.

“Why?” Richie questions, staring at James like he were a madman. As James explains his predictions that their enemies in Congress have some plan to get rid of the Constitution, his eyes widen in a mix of anger and surprise. “They couldn’t.. they wouldn’t!” He protests in disbelief. 

“They would,” James confirms. “Which is why I plan to draft a bill of rights– if we do it first, instead of waiting for someone in the anti-federalist faction to do it, then it’ll make _them_ look bad, and not us,” He smiles smugly, beaming with satisfaction at the brilliance of his plan. “If anything, they’ll be denounced as treasonous for trying to get rid of the Constitution whilst we were attempting to fix the foundation of our government even more than it already had been fixed.”

Richie opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again and sighs. After two minutes, he nods and smiles. “It is a brilliant plan,” he agrees. “But how will you explain your sudden change of heart over the Constitution having a bill of rights to go with it?”

“Washington,” He counters almost immediately. “I can convince him that the Constitution needs a bill of rights, and if it has his support and he goes public with his support, then everyone will want a bill of rights. Only, since Washington is known to favor my interests, it’ll make it look like it was my idea for a bill of rights in the first place, and the anti-federalists were trying to undermine me and make me look bad– we can use Henry and Monroe’s little stunt to rob me of my seat in the House to help further that idea, too.”

“You’re brilliant,” Richie breathes out in amazement, his gaze fixing on James’s. He smiles. James does, too, but he looks down quickly when he realizes that Richie has been smiling at him for _too_ long. They know about each other, but neither of them ever says anything about it; Richie is too shy and James doesn’t care too much to ask. Either way, they’re both fucked it anyone finds out. It’s like a secret-keeping game, but for keeps.

James clears his throat. “I visited Washington,” He says quickly, attempting to change the subject. “At Mount Vernon, before I left Virginia.”

He bites his lip. Richie frowns. “What did he say?” He asks after a minute of silence.

“I reassured him that taking the presidency is for the best– not only for the nation, but for him as well.”

At that, Richie laughs. “Did he have doubts about that he would become the president to begin with?”

“I don’t think it was that,” He admits, moving his sleeve up to his face and coughing. “I think that he was just.. not scared, but unmotivated and tired. The past few years have been tough, so I can’t blame him for it.” James crosses his legs over and sighs. “I honestly don’t think that he knows just how much we need for him to be apart of the new government.”

“He’s humbled himself so much now that he sees himself as no more important than the rest of us, when in reality, we need him now more than we ever have before,” Richie muses. “The general likes to downplay his importance so that he won’t be accused of trying to take the King of England’s place.”

James sits there for a moment, speechless. “Yes, actually.” He stumbles over the words as he speaks, still in shock as to how Richie managed to convey exactly what he was going to say himself. Sometimes, he wonders if the man can read minds. “But luckily, I managed to talk some sense into him.”

“Thank God,” Richie whispers.

He nods. Getting Washington to see reason was harder than he had thought it would be, but thankfully it had worked. All he needs to do now is come to New York, be sworn in, and express his support for a bill of rights– then, everything will be perfect.

 “Washington offered me a job,” He blurts out suddenly, laughing when Richie looks back to him in shock. “Secretary of Foreign Affairs. Secretary Jay’s old job.”

“Are you going to accept it?” James knows that Richie doesn’t anticipate any answer other than a strict ‘yes,’ but he can’t bring himself to lie or lead him on like that, especially when he hasn’t really even thought about whether he should take the offer yet or not. Jay didn’t seem to like the job much, but then again, Jay has never really shown much interest in anything as long as James has known him. He supposes that he could write a letter to Thomas and ask him for his opinion, but not only is he still angry with him, but it’ll take too long to send and receive his letter, especially now that in the weather nowadays. 

“Well-” James starts to speak, but before he can say anything else, the front door flies open.

“WE’RE HOME, UNCLE JAMES!” Jimmie screams as loud as he can, causing Betsey to jump and turn around from her place directly in front of him.

“And we brought company!” Nelly calls out, practically skipping into the house with Hamilton in tow. Against his better judgement, James lets out a heavy sigh. Now he _really_ won’t have any peace and quiet.

“Oh my go- where did they find you?” He looks Hamilton up and down; he’s carrying all of the groceries in his hands and looks like he’s about to fall down from all of the heavy bags and boxes. From besides him, Richie laughs and pours some more tea into his cup. 

“Well,” Hamilton starts, setting the groceries on the small table in front of him and Richie. “I had been at the store to browse around, when I saw that one,” He briefly swats his hand in William’s direction, ignoring the eye roll that he got in return, “yelling at a little girl.”

“I’m not little,” Betsey mumbles, huffing and crossing her arms. “I’m _eight_ , for your information.” 

Hamilton snorts. “You sound just like my oldest son,” He smiles fondly at her and then turns back to face James and Richie. “Anyways, I recognized your niece,” He points at Nelly, who waves back, “And she invited me over– and reminded me of your _birthday_.” He says the end part in a singsong tone.

“I see,” James sighs. The constant reminder that it’s his birthday is awful. “Thank you for bringing the children home, Alexander.” He pats the chair to the other side of him, then motions for the children to depart from the room, ruffling Jimmie’s hair as he bounds out of sight.

“So, thirty-eight,” Hamilton practically hums as he sits down in the chair on James’s other side. He grins and nudges him. “How does it feel?”

“Terrible,” James laments, rolling his eyes as Hamilton nudges him. “I’m getting to be past my prime.”

“It could be worse,” Richie chimes in, holding a cup of tea up for Hamilton to take and pouring more tea into James’s own cup. “You could be Patrick Henry. Not only old, but the biggest asshole alive, too.”

Hamilton laughs. “You have a point there, Rich.”

He smiles at that. It’s true; at least he isn’t Patrick Henry, pushing into his mid-fifties and so bitter about the fact that a man nearly fifteen years younger than him is able to hold his own against him that he’s desperate enough to rig an election so that said man is guaranteed to lose. God help him if he ever finds similarities with that evil man– he would rather shoot himself in the head than become like Patrick Henry.

“So, what were you talking about without my esteemed presence?” Hamilton takes a sip of his tea and crosses his legs over, raising one of his hands with a dramatic flair and silently chuckling to himself.

“General Washington offered Mr. Madison a job after he becomes president,” Richie says proudly, reaching over and squeezing James’s hand quickly. “Secretary of Foreign Affairs.”

“Good for you, James,” Hamilton coughs into his coat’s sleeve and sets his teacup down next to the groceries. “I assume you said yes?" 

Richie and Hamilton look at him expectantly. James bites his lip again. “Actually, I haven’t given him an answer yet,” He admits, sighing heavily. “I still haven’t gone over all of the risks, and-”

“You’re lying,” Hamilton interrupts bluntly. “You’re afraid of Monroe and Henry.”

“No, I’m not. I just.. don’t think that I’m qualified for a job like that.”

Hamilton rolls his eyes. “Puh- _lease_. You’re one of the most qualified men that I can think of for the job! Aside from myself, but y'know I’m holding out for the Treasury.”

“I’ll have to get approved by the Senate, and you both know that Henry’s put his goons in there.”

“Fuck Patrick Henry!” Richie nearly jumps up before James tugs on his sleeve to pull him back down. “You should be glad that he rigged the elections against you– it’s given you an even better opportunity. Just think of how his face will be when he finds out that he blocked you from Congress, only to have you join the _executive_ branch." 

“Exactly,” Hamilton smiles smugly. “And you know what they say; when someone fucks with you, then you get to fuck with them back. I’ve got some things that I’ve been wanting to say in the papers anyway, and we can-”

He interrupts Hamilton with a loud, prolonged sigh. Things like this is why he’s been thinking of publicly distancing himself from Hamilton. James loves him to death, but he can be a wild card; too much of a wild card for his tastes. His mind is bright, but his political knowledge is next to nothing compared to James’s own. He makes too many risky moves and concerns himself more with the payoff of his actions than their immediate consequences, something that he hates with every fiber of his being. Doesn’t he know that when it comes to politics, he has to be careful and concise? If he doesn’t play his piece right, anything can be fatal to him, and that’s what worries him most. It’s as if Hamilton doesn’t think before he says things– what was he thinking, suggesting to the Philadelphia convention that they have a _president for life_? Was he asking for people to accuse him of being a monarchist? 

Associating with Hamilton can turn out to be dangerous for himself as well. If people continue to accuse him of being a secret monarchist, then him and Washington will be regarded as guilty by association, and their enemies will accuse them of being monarchists, too. And they can’t afford for that to happen– if him and Washington fall, then there’ll be no hope for America and the Constitution to thrive. He loves Hamilton, and regards him as one of his closest friends, but when push comes to shove, he won’t risk his political career by trying to defend him when he keeps making such brash decisions. There’s too much on the line for both him and Washington to let an impulsive northerner ruin things for them.

Sometimes, it feels like he’s a moth, bound to be burnt by the charm and allure of Hamilton’s flame.

“No, Alexander, that won’t be necessary,” James says finally, shaking his head and then raising his hand when Hamilton opens his mouth to protest. “I don’t need to talk about him in the papers, and I don’t intend to; I want to prove that I’m the bigger person compared to him, and show them that I can get past my losses.”

Richie frowns. “But how do you intended to prove that?”

“Well, getting a bill of rights passed is a start.” Instinctively, he reaches over and pats Hamilton on his knee as he tries to stand up. “That reminds me. I need you to start supporting the idea that I’ve always wanted a bill of rights.”

“James, don’t tell me that you’re seriously going to-”

James nods. Hamilton slumps himself back down in his chair and sighs loudly. “I don’t want to– and I mean, I really, _really_ don’t want to, but I have to. If I don’t, then the country will be doomed and all of this will have been for nothing.” He pats Hamilton’s knee again. 

“You’ve said yourself that-”

“Well, sometimes you have to change your plans in order to adapt to the world around you,” He shrugs indifferently. “It’s called being a politician.”

He smiles; he knows that he’s won, and he knows that Hamilton’s accepted defeat for once by the dejected frown on his face. “How do you even plan on passing a bill of rights without a seat in Congress?” Hamilton crosses his arms and leans back.

“Well, after I finish them, I’ll have Richie here introduce the amendments,” He squeezes Richie’s shoulder and exchanges a smile with him. “The representatives like him, and he’s a distant relation to other members of the Senate and the House alike. So, not only will they support it out of family pride and loyalty, but they’ll ensure that their supporters begin to support it, too.”

“And, session of the House are open to the public,” Richie adds. “If you two show up to the sessions, then it’ll show the representatives that you actually support a bill of rights, and that you’re not supporting it just for show.”

Hamilton stares at them bewilderedly. “Not to mention that Washington will endorse a bill of rights if I talk to him,” James continues. “And if he supports it, then everyone will.”

“Oh my go-” Hamilton throws his hands back to his head and groans. “I hate that you always have to make such good arguments! Why can’t you ever make refutable arguments like the rest of us?”

James rolls his eyes. “You say that like Washington isn’t the most gullible man alive. I’ve never heard of him making a serious political decision without asking for someone’s opinion first, and we both know that if Washington had to choose between letting you die and making five hard decisions without asking for anyone else’s opinion, he wouldn’t hesitate to get a gun and kill you himself.”

It’s silent for another moment, before Hamilton and Richie dissolve into fits of laughter. James snorts and crosses his arms as the two struggle to compose themselves, letting himself patiently whistle as Hamilton steadies himself onto the arm of his chair and attempts to catch his breath and Richie nearly falls out of his seat while howling.

“I hate you so much,” Hamilton manages to get out between his laughs and his wheezes, taking in deep breaths as he stifles his laughter and sits properly in his chair.

“You might hate me for it,” James hums and grins. “But you can't deny that it’s true.”

“It really is,” Hamilton sighs exasperatedly and takes a sip from his teacup. “Alright, this plan fucking sucks, _but_ it seems like you’ve thought of everything, so what is it that do you need me to do?” He says after a few minutes of silence.

“For now, I just need you to get your supporters on board with it. Convince them that this is what we’ve always wanted to do– insinuate that the anti-federalists have been trying to undermine us, but don’t say it outright.” He adds quickly, to dispel the flames in Hamilton’s brain that he was sure had already begun to fan themselves. This has to be done perfectly, and he can’t let Hamilton fuck it up with his recklessness.

“And what should I do?” Richie asks, reaching and patting James on the back as he coughs into his sleeve.

“Richie, I’ll need you to do the same thing, but you’ll have to bring it up in Congress, too,” James explains, huffing and coughing again. “Make sure that everyone knows that we intend to pass a bill of rights, and imply that Washington supports it, too; in the meantime, I’ll work on the actual amendments and write to the general to let him know of our plans-”

“Wait. You mean to tell me that you ain’t even talked to him about it yet?” Hamilton cuts him off before he can finish what he was going to say, causing him to roll his eyes again and scoff.

“Why would I tell him about our plans when he was expressing doubts about accepting the presidency to me?” He questions, crossing his arms back together and looking back at Hamilton. “I told him that I think the anti-federalists want the Constitution to be repealed, and I told him that having his support as the President will stop them. He didn’t need to hear anything more than that at the time, because it wasn’t relevant to his fears over taking the presidency then. I don’t really want to tell him in the first place, but _now_ it’s relevant, which is why I need to bring it up to him– so that he’ll be informed of what’s going on when he comes to New York to take office. Do I need to spell it out for you anymore than that?”

The room goes silent again. He’s never seen Hamilton be this quiet before, and so many times, either; it’s like a new record for him or something. Washington would probably be proud to see it. “God, I hate that I have to keep admitting this,” Hamilton mumbles finally, voice low as he runs his hands through his hair and throws his head back to stare at the ceiling. “You’re right.”

“I know,” James says bluntly, then picks up his tea again and takes another sip. “I’m always right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. madison was at mount vernon on washington's birthday in 1789. [here's a letter from madison to his dad describing the bad roads and weather that he wrote from mount vernon about two days later!](https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Madison/01-11-02-0329)  
> 2\. patrick henry and james madison hated each other's guts. their rivalry began in the 1770s, but it reached its peak in the 1780s. in the first senate election, henry had two anti-federalists run so that madison was guaranteed to lose, and in the first house of reps. election, henry's supporters in virginia's house of delegates put the county that madison lived in with a lot of anti-federalist districts to ensure that madison would lose election to the house to james monroe. madison ended up beating monroe in history, but of course, he didn't in this story. yikes!  
> 3\. historically, madison did raise his niece nelly. they were very close to each other -- he even said his last words to her! madison didn't have as close a relationship with his other nieces and nephews (save his nephew robert, who hasn't been born yet), but i didn't want nelly to be lonely, so he's raising a few of his other nieces and nephews too. :)  
> 4\. the secretary of state was originally called the secretary of foreign affairs until september 1789, so i'm using that name until we get to that  
> 5\. richard bland lee was a real guy that was in the house of reps. with madison. he was probably his biggest supporter in the house and had encouraged madison to run for the senate along w/ washington! his faceclaim is [j quinton johnson!](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/383099809168490516/534227397138972672/image0.png)  
> 6\. madison & jeffersons relationship was kind of rocky in 1788 & the beginning of 1789 bc jefferson opposed the constitution for a while and madison found out that he was writing letters to people criticizing it. [here's the really passive aggressive letter that madison wrote to him in 1788 after virginia ratified the constitution.](https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Madison/01-11-02-0138)
> 
> next chapter will be up soon! we're gonna see some familiar faces. :)

**Author's Note:**

> im on tumblr !! follow me @washingtononyourside :)


End file.
